


What We Do In The Academy

by imoldgreg



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV), What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Incest, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blood Drinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Knotting, Luther is Allison’s Human Familiar, M/M, No One’s Actually Related !, Public Sex, Reginald Is Referred To As The Count, Vampires, Werewolves, What We Do In The Shadows AU, and he’s an ASSHOLE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoldgreg/pseuds/imoldgreg
Summary: A dysfunctional brood of vampires and one human living under one roof together - add a werewolf into the mix and things don’t go to plan.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves/Luther Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 125





	What We Do In The Academy

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t good but it is what it is
> 
> Just a quick thing - all the siblings are part of Reggie’s brood because they were either turned into a vampire by him or turned by one of the other siblings (and they refer to each other as family etc.)

Ben has been dead for far too long. It gets boring after a while. Sure, maybe it's fun at first; staying up all night, flying around wherever you fancy, the whole shapeshifting shindig.

But Ben honestly hasn’t seen the sun rise in four hundred years, and he'd really like to be able to eat waffles again.

Blood loses its taste after a while, and human food doesn't agree with vampire digestive systems, and it only took about fifty years after turning until Ben realised that hunting humans for prey wasn’t actually fun. It was actually kinda sad. Really Sad. And it made him Really Sad to think about not being alive anymore.

So, as much as his siblings liked to poke fun at him for it, Ben decided to make the best out of a bad situation, and just pretended he was alive – or as much as he could. He wore normal clothes (albeit all black, but a hoodie, jeans and a t shirt certainly suited him better than frilly collars and lace shirts), he only drank the special 'vegan blood' he ordered on Vamp.net (containing 0% human!), and he didn’t use any powers. Period.

That meant no flying, no shape shifting, and certainly no hypnosis.

He could even get away with being outside during the day if he really stuck to the shadows and kept his hood up, though more often than not it was just easier to rise when the others did at night. Third degree burns, however fast he might heal, are really not very pleasant. Even for a vampire.

So, okay, maybe he couldn’t go out during the day, but plenty of living humans only came out at night. Ben was more than happy to identify himself as one of them.

Five thought it was stupid, like most things. He was the oldest besides Count Reginald (Ben had made a mental note to plan a gathering for Five’s 8000th – it was coming up in a few decades), and he'd always roll his eyes and scoff loudly whenever he saw Ben's outfit of choice, making a derisive comment about the 'youth of today’ from behind his newspaper.

Ironic, considering Five had been turned at thirteen, and since then had never aged a day.

“At least people don’t tell me I'm early for Halloween every time I step outside,” Ben muttered as he set about pouring himself a glass of 'blood', trying not to cringe at the artificial smell. Sometimes it was hard not to miss to real deal.

“Well then you just kill them,” Five wrinkled his nose as if it was obvious, his hand gesturing vaguely. “That.. 'outfit' is no better than.. well you're no better than Klaus. In fact I prefer his crossdressing to whatever that is,” Five couldn’t hide his confused glare at the black denim jacket draped over Ben's shoulders, and Ben tried to hide his smirk. As much as Five claimed to hate the Count, they certainly sounded alike the majority of the time – matching Transylvanian accents and all.

(Five was one of those ancient blooded vampires that couldn’t withdraw their fangs, or change their eyes from a deep red to a more socially acceptable colour. It also seemed the older you were the more of a pretentious pain in the ass you became, but Ben was just thankful at least Five wasn’t a direct descendant of Nosferatu like the Count, who really did resemble an angry naked mole rat in a cloak at the best of times.)

That conversation had taken place back in the early 80s, when Klaus was indeed going through a crossdressing phase. A phase that had so far lasted almost two hundred and fifty years, and was still yet to end.

Come to think of it, that was even before Allison had enthralled Luther as her familiar, and she’d come back every morning reeking of human pheromones, her hair tousled and her skin clammy.

It was uncomfortable for everyone to think that Allison out of all of them was out cavorting with a human without any intention of turning him. Sure, when Klaus did it, it was expected. Klaus was insatiable, and had been ever since the late 1700s. He’d been bitten by a feral vampire, had transitioned alone and wiped out several villages before joining them.

He still played with his food for weeks before finally biting them, and sometimes didn’t even bother with that.

Klaus was.. well, Klaus.

But Allison? She had never been turned, she was born a vampire, the very spawn of the Count himself. She was occult royalty with a bitter contempt for all things with a pulse.

She’d never even so much as bothered with a human familiar, and she always killed as quickly and as cruelly as possible, reluctant to spare so much as a child.

So imagine the family's shock when Five suddenly scented out a pulsing artery within the very walls of the Academy, eyes black, fangs gleaming with venom, only to find said meal entwined with one of the world’s most powerful vampires, completely unharmed, and completely unenthralled.

And, unfortunately, completely naked.

That was an image Ben would never be able to unsee.

It was safe to say no one approved, however all of them wordlessly agreed to Not Tell The Count, even when Allison was being particularly soppy and treating Luther as if he was a prized pet – right in front of the rest of the family. Five's eye twitch got so bad at one point Ben was worried he'd actually develop a tick.

Luther received plenty of bullying for his trouble, and his safety was highly questionable if he was left without Allison's supervision. While he was safe from the Count's cruel grasp (Reginald was too old to remain out of his coffin for long, so he slept for centuries at a time unless disturbed), both Klaus and Five had attempted to drink from the great lug's neck in the past, and even Ben had found it hard to keep his fangs away around the unenthralled human.

Of course things changed when Allison finally made Luther her familiar, but barely. It was just everyone Had To Tolerate Him now (aka, no bitey bitey), and he (unfortunately) moved in with them. Which didn't seem to bother the human, and he actually took up a duster and a mop and helped himself to the cleaning.

Ben would’ve considered it a blessing – the Academy was old, and filled with five egotistical asshole vampires who thought cleaning was below them, so it was nice to finally have a few dust-free surfaces – except Luther became somehow impossibly more annoying.

“Why are there still bloody dishes in the sink?” the huge human demanded one evening in the drawing room, stupid little flowery apron tied around his waist, a pair of bright marigold rubber gloves on his hands.

Five emitted a pissed off growl at the back of his throat and buried himself further in his writing. Ben looked up from his book and fixed Luther with a critical glare.

“It was Klaus' turn,” he supplied, and Luther frowned, pointing a scrubbing brush accusingly at the aforementioned brother.

“Why haven't you done your part Klaus? We have a rotor for a reason.”

Klaus groaned overdramatically from his upside down position draped across the armchair, cigarette hanging loosely between two fingers. He flung an arm over his face and hid his gaze in the crook of his elbow.

“It’s never anybody else's turn!” he spat childishly, and Luther folded his arms. Ben couldn’t help laughing at his disappointed expression. It was like watching a dad scold an unruly child.

“We’re vampires! Who cares if there's a few dirty dishes in the sink!” Klaus kept whining, his face falling into a sulky pout as he finally turned his head to fix Luther with a dark glare.

Five grunted in agreement to Klaus' protests. He was always one for putting vampires above humans.

“If we all left our bloody dishes in the sink then there wouldn't be any clean dishes,” Luther's voice was slow, as if he was talking to a child.

Klaus could be volatile at the best of times, and Luther's enforcement of his chore regime almost earned him a mouth around his windpipe, if only Allison hadn't flown in and pulled the younger vampire off her familiar so hard he collided with the wall on the opposite side of the room.

And that was an almost daily occurrence for the first few years of Luther's residence. And it wasn’t just Klaus who lashed out, either.

However, the Count – much to everyone’s dismay – adored Luther. He treated him like a pet dog, fussing over him and praising him whenever Allison wasn’t. It meant Luther felt himself invincible, so he strutted around with a self assured arrogance, ordering the others about with little fear.

It drove Five up the wall – literally. Ben had been startled numerous times by the sight of the thirteen-going-on-eight-thousand year old sat cross legged on the ceiling, the walls covered in frustrated equations, massaging his temples with trembling hands. He'd always been the Count's favourite as one of his first fledglings. It was a hard blow for him to take to say the least.

And it didn’t help that Luther was a colossal douche.

And it didn’t stop him and Allison from having Very Loud and Very Weird and Very Uncomfortable interspecies sex right above Ben's casket room.  
Even Klaus complained about it.

“You'd think after ten years the spark would fizzle out,” he whined miserably into his hands one evening at the dinner table, a series of violent bangs and crashes coming from upstairs. Every so often a scream or a shout would punctuate the ruckus, usually followed by a very sensual vampire snarl that set everybody’s hair on end.

With that signature pout, Klaus kicked the table leg hard enough to make it squeak over the flagstone. The half dead corpse laying over the surface groaned weakly, and Five sank his teeth deeper into the meat of its calf with a snarl, his loud slurping barely more tolerable than the animalistic sex noises occurring just above. His face was covered in blood, and rivulets of the glorious red liquid were trickling down onto the floor below.

Klaus clicked his tongue irritably and folded his arms across his chest. It bunched the fabric of his dress up, his flat chest leaving the material a little baggy.

Ben had been surprised at his brother's reaction to Allison and Luther’s (weird) relationship, as Klaus had always been the most open minded out of all the family. He'd picked up a nasty habit of drinking drug-blood in the late 50s, and ever since then he’d hardly fed from anyone sober, so sleeping with humans without devouring them wasn’t an issue for him, provided they weren’t high.

Dave was a notable human who kept reappearing: notable because he was quite obviously Not High.

When Ben had first met Dave, Klaus was still feral, and Dave had been a simple farmer drawn into his brother’s web through lustful eyes and begging lips. Klaus had been so sexually voracious he’d accidentally torn Dave's heart out when he’d climaxed, and stared at it for a good minute before yowling in anguished realisation.

God, Ben never wanted a repeat of 'The One Hundred Year Sulk' that followed that incident ever again, thank you very much. It was just lucky for everyone that humans reincarnate, so Klaus met Dave again around 1769, this time as a soldier.

Klaus had been so very, very careful that time, but war was not, and Dave had been stabbed with a bayonet through the skull.

He'd since been a washer woman, a sailor, a horse, a fishmonger, a policeman, a cowboy, a champion chess player, and even once a nun, and Klaus had fucked him through every single life. Especially The Nun.

Any life Dave could’ve lived, he’d lived it. But always resulting in some tragically early death, much to Klaus' Very Loud And Annoying heartbreak. No one in the Academy looked forward to the time when Dave would return, despite how nice the human admittedly was.

At the moment Klaus had been moping for half a century because he hadn’t been able to find Dave again yet, so his sexual conquests were at present a mystery to Ben. Personally he was quite glad. Klaus had a bad habit of oversharing, and Ben was the only member of the family who wouldn’t physically attack him for it, so he usually heard everything in uncomfortably explicit detail.

But Vanya, an energy vampire who’d taken residence in their basement within the past two hundred years, was starting to sense something was up.

At first she kept commenting about the terrible smell of dog that kept hanging around the house, but Ben thought she was just being paranoid. Vanya was Like That sometimes. The others ignored her, as usual, even Klaus who was usually very tolerant of her (even when she was being especially miserable).

But then Five started to notice the smell, and Klaus became increasingly bitchy towards anyone who sniffed too loudly around him.

Ben ignored them all. They were old world vampires – cunty at the best of times, even when trying to be polite. It came with the territory.

Ben was just glad he hadn't been around during the Salem Trials. Apparently Allison had been unbearably take-over-the-worldy, and Five had supposedly been going through 'vampire puberty' around the time of World War Two, and had his crypt bombed twice.

Yeah, Ben was pretty thankful he wasn’t around for that.

“Klaus you stink,” Five grumbled from his armchair, rustling the pages of his ancient newspaper obnoxiously loud – for emphasis.

“You fucking stink, shut up,” Klaus had growled – actually growled – at Five, and the ensuing hissing-fang-baring-venom-spitting contest that followed had set everybody’s teeth on edge, and even woken up the Count.

“I will not have my Brood acting in this ridiculous manner!” Count Reginald had barked from the doorway, making them all jump and causing Klaus to fall from midair where he and Five had been hovering menacingly towards each other. He landed with a squeal and a miserable whine, clutching his jaw.

The Count sighed and pretended to ignore the interruption, but couldn’t hide the wrinkling of his nose as he unconsciously scented his surroundings.

“And what on Earth is that awful smell? Has someone been leaving corpses out again? Who’s turn was it to clean up last?” (The Count had loved Luther's idea of a chore rotor, unfortunately for everyone else.)

It had been Klaus’ (again), but that had been almost ten years ago. (“The old man stays in his coffin for years at a time anyway! He’s ancient! He’s not gonna notice a few blood stains,” his brother had scoffed at him, fresh off the body of a young man who been thrumming with ecstasy, and Klaus had been Rolling.)

Exasperated, the Count set his familiar, Pogo, to go help Luther clean up the place. The chimp didn’t look too pleased. It was a big job, despite the human's best efforts.

The smell remained for some time, and Allison passed it off as a pack of feral werewolves passing through the area. Five was more conspiratorial however, and watched everyone Very Closely. Vanya stuck close to him during this time – she rarely got to feed on distrustful energy, so she had a goddamn field date.

Klaus had started really smelling – worse than normal. Not that Ben would’ve called Klaus' natural scent bad, it was actually quite nice, but the amount of chemicals in the drug-blood he drank made him smell artificial and unclean.

But it wasn’t that anymore – Klaus really did smell like a dog. Like A Werewolf. And Ben's familiar, a huge grey racoon called Margaret, had started complaining that she could hardly take a step outback to rummage in the dumpsters without tripping over empty dog food cans.

There was no point asking Klaus what was going on without provoking an unnecessary fight, and Ben really wasn’t interested in locking fangs with anyone.

So he apologized to Margaret and promised to sort it as soon as he could, before slipping out of the house a few hours before dawn to clear his head. The town library had its own resident poltergeist from the Second World War who was always happy to invite Ben in after hours so he could take out a few books here and there.

However books cannot drown out your family, Ben unfortunately found out.

So when Luther ran in during a family meeting in the parlor a few days later, pointing accusingly at everyone in the room with his garden sheers, Ben knew he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“That fucking dog smell. It’s been here for weeks. And it's fucking werewolves. They’ve ruined the grass outside, and one of my hedges. It was a rocket. Emphasis on WAS,” Luther was fuming, his face red, his hands shaking. The rusty garden sheers clinked in his grip.

Vanya was next to him in the blink of an eye, his outraged energy absolutely delicious to her, and Luther jumped at the sudden appearance, but quickly recovered.

“And don’t tell me I'm going crazy! I've heard howls late at night, and barking, and there’s fucking hair everywhere!” he shouted, his eyes crazed. Allison enthralling Luther had given him far too much confidence to order vampires around, and it made Ben roll his eyes.

Five watched him closely, one ankle resting carelessly on one knee. He raised an eyebrow and swirled the blood in his wine glass around, but said nothing, his black eyes fixed on Luther. Five had always been secretly fascinated by humans' emotional responses to things (despite how much he claimed to hate them as creatures), and Ben suspected his human 'familiar' Delores was more than just that by the way he so enjoyed simply observing her when she didn’t realise.

“Werewolves? Luther you’re so cute,” Allison smirked behind her glass, trying to conceal the fondness in her voice. Trying to conceal it Very Badly. In fact Luther visibly relaxed a touch, and even put down the clippers.

Klaus, on the other hand, visibly tensed. His bare leg bounced irritably, and the leather material of his skirt shifted further up his thigh. Ben couldn’t help notice the faint claw scrapes against the pale flesh, and when he glanced back up Klaus' dark eyes were glaring right into his soul.

Oh dear.

“What would werewolves be doing round here?” Ben spoke up, not taking his eyes off of Klaus, who was minutely shaking his head.

“I don't know. Come outside, it reeks of dog piss,” Luther ushered them outside irritably, his scowl only lifting slightly when Allison laid her cold hand on his broad shoulder, and squeezed gently.

Five rolled his eyes, and continued sipping his blood from his seat in the armchair. He didn’t bother following them.

Ben had to pull his sleeve over his nose and mouth when they opened the front door. It was Bad .

Sure enough, a werewolf had been using the garden as its personal toilet. And Luther's carefully carved shrub as its punching bag.

Allison visibly bristled, and even Vanya turned a little green.

Klaus had followed them out of the drawing room, however a black cat now trotted through Ben's legs, its tail swishing angrily and nose lifted high, its intentions to slink off and disappear for a few hours more than clear.

Luther grabbed him by the scruff before he could go off and sulk, and Klaus hissed at him, and wriggled his little furry limbs.

“What's going on, Klaus?” the human demanded, and the cat yowled, trying to swipe at Luther with his claws.

As it turned out, Diego Castañeda was what was going on.

A werewolf, of all things.

They found out a few weeks after the garden incident. Klaus hadn’t been speaking to anyone, and had been spending more time locked up in the crypt, but the smell was getting worse, and Five was starting to complain that the bear rug in the main hall had fleas, and Ben had been finding dog hairs all over the leather sofa.

It was early in the morning, when everyone else had retired to their caskets, and Ben had been tirelessly trying to finish the last chapter of the novel he’d been reading since the Victorian era. He was exhausted, and the black out curtains in his room weren’t quite strong enough to block out the little trickle of sunlight that was starting to make his hands itch.

But when he finally gave up, and had himself tucked up into his coffin nice and comfy, eyes closed, ready to sleep, there was a muffled howl.

A very werewolf-esque howl.

Margaret's shiny black orbs glinted at him as she licked her paws clean – the perfect expression of “I told you so.”

As Ben followed the sound he got further down the house into the underbelly, the howling ceased, and instead there came a series of muffled thumps, and then a tell tale scratching at the door. A soft whine.

It sounded like a dog was trying to get out from somewhere.

From the crypt.

Where Klaus lived.

Ben sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. What the fuck had his brother done now?

Klaus was still out hunting (getting high), so he unlocked the huge splintering oak door and shouldered it open, trying to ignore the smoky wall of incense and weed that assaulted his nose upon entry.

“Jesus Klaus,” Ben coughed as he pulled the neck of his t shirt over his nose. Nag Champa was not That Nice.

He pushed aside the Vietnamese bead curtain that hung over the arched doorway and glanced around. A weird concoction of Victorian Goth meets Hippie Asshole lay before him, complete with Persian rugs, fur throws and tapestries – all shit Klaus had collected through the centuries.

In the far corner, a record player quietly played a crackled rendition of some of Elvis’s greatest hits. The candles were burning low. Klaus' coffin was strewn with different clothes he’d obviously tried on and discarded before going out this evening.

But no dog.

Ben frowned. Maybe it was just a consequence of staying up so late. He checked his watch and blanched. It was almost seven am, Jesus Christ.

But just as he turned to go, his foot hit something that squeaked.

“What the-“ Ben muttered, leaning down to pick it up. A blue rubber bone stared back at him, badly chewed, with bright green letters that read 'DOG'. He squeezed it, and a high pitched squeal emitted from it.

Why the fuck would Klaus have a dog toy in his room? Was it a kinky thing?

Ben decided he didn’t really want to know if that was the case, but then his eye caught an unfamiliar shape underneath a ridiculous Yak rug crammed underneath an old green coffee table. He tugged the throw away in one hard sweep, and a plethora of dog toys tumbled out onto the floor. Mangled teddy bears, tennis balls, half eaten bones – the lot.

Ben sighed heavily.

What the fuck was Klaus doing?

Ben was too sleep deprived for this, he’d sort it out later. He had every intention of just going back upstairs and going to his casket, but for some ungodly reason he decided to pass by the kitchen. For what? An early morning snack? A glass of water? He didn’t fucking know, but he wished like hell he just hadn’t bothered.

The 'fuck' that Klaus was doing was there.  
Not a dog, but a man, a Shirtless Man, rummaging around in the cupboards, a pained expression on his face. When he caught sight of Ben's dumbfounded expression in the doorway, he beamed.

“Hey man, you haven’t got any food have you? I'm starving.”

Not quite the welcome Ben was expecting.

“I.. Who.. what..” he couldn’t quite fathom what was going on here. “You’re not human are you?”  
The man blinked at him, looking down at himself as if he had to check. Ben blinked at him, and finally scented the air. Oh.

“Nope, one hundred percent premium werewolf my dude,” the guy laughed, thumping his toned chest with a fist. Ben internally groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. Werewolves were annoying, and needy, and stupid. He had to get this knucklehead out of here before the others found out. He couldn’t imagine they’d give him a very warm reception.

“What are you doing here? You have to leave man,” Ben watched him carefully from the doorway as the guy continued to search, a high and very non-human whine coming from his throat.

“Why’d you guys have no food? When's Klaus back?” the guy fixed Ben with a pair of golden puppy eyes, and suddenly it made sense. Klaus. The dog toys. The smell.

Klaus had been hiding this guy in his room this whole time.

Ben tried not to look too murderous.

“It’s not safe for you here you have to-“ a sharp ringing interrupted him, and the werewolf instantly stood to attention at the sound, frowning.

Ben rolled his eyes almost to the back of his skull as he went to answer the phone, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was an old phone, Very Old, one where the earpiece had to be unhooked from the wall and brought up to the ear.

“Hello?” Ben answered, trying not to sound too pissed off.

The answer was crackled, and distorted, but the general message was that Klaus was high, and didn’t have a way to get home without being burnt alive, so would Ben Pretty Please come pick him up because he was The Best Brother In The Whole Wide World and Klaus loved him So So Much.

“Come on, we're going to get Klaus,” Ben ushered the werewolf out of the kitchen and into the hall, pulling his hood up as much as possible as he peered out the front door. If they ran Ben could just make it without burning.

The guy was thrumming with excitement as soon as Klaus' name left Ben's lips, practically launching himself into the back seat of the car and shoving his head out the window the second they got moving.

Ben Could Not Be Bothered. He was more worried about getting dog hair over the back seat of his car.

Klaus was waiting round the back of a superstore in the shade, slumped against the wall and covered in glitter. And blood. If anyone had seen him they would’ve thought he was dead. Well, he was, but that’s not the point.

Ben sounded the horn when he pulled up, and Klaus practically jumped out of his skin, clutching his chest as if he had a heart to stop.

“Asshole!” he yelled, but he was grinning. Ben sighed through his nose as he watched his brother stagger up onto his bare feet, and skip quickly over to the car, only for his face to drop the second he saw the man in the back seat.

“So you’ve met Diego,” Klaus mumbled when he melted into the passenger seat, thankful for the sun-shields over the windows.

Ben grunted his response and started to drive back, and in the corner of his vision he saw Klaus leaning round in his seat to speak to .. Diego. The werewolf.

“Klaus what the fuck are you doing with a werewolf?” he snapped, his grip tight on the wheel. He felt more than saw his brother’s eye roll.

“Benny he’s fine, he’s not like the packs we’ve had disagreements with before,” Klaus dismissed him, cradling Diego’s head in his hands and scratching round the back of his ears, much to the werewolf's loud contentment.

“The others are gonna kill him if they find out, you realise that right? He’s been smelling up the whole house,” Ben sighed, his anger subsiding to exhaustion as he pulled up to the Academy, stopping the engine but keeping the doors locked. Klaus had a habit of avoiding a problem by simply leaving.

“Benny,” Klaus mirrored his sigh, finally letting go of his pet and turning back around to face Ben. His eyes were wide and rimmed with smeared Kohl, his pupils still blown. He kept chewing the inside of his cheeks. Diego rested his chin on Klaus' shoulder. “They’re not going to find out. Diego just needed somewhere to stay for a while. He'll be gone soon, okay?”

And Ben stupidly agreed. Of course he did. Klaus was his brother, he trusted him. That was his first mistake, clearly.

Because what Ben unfortunately walked in on a few days after deciding to trust Klaus (a trap he should really stop falling into after several hundred years of living with the guy) was decidedly not Diego just 'needing somewhere to stay for a while'. Unless the place he needed to stay in was Klaus' ass.

He'd just wanted to grab his coat from the dining room and go out to the library again. Was that too much to ask?

Clearly, it was.

Because Klaus was getting nailed over the table. Where they all ate. By a fucking werewolf.

Ben heard them before he saw them, and it made him pause just before peering round the doorway. God he wished he'd just fucking walked away.

It was slapping at first. Fast and wet squelching sounds, with heavy breaths. An occasional grunt. Surely Ben wasn’t so stupid he couldn’t figure it out?

“F-uck!” Klaus' voice, breathless and whiney, echoed through the empty halls. Ben had never heard it pitch that unnaturally high before.

Then a growl. Animalistic. Ben peeked round.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

Klaus was bent over the table, Diego leaning over him. The werewolf was fucking into him at a punishing pace, and had his jaws locked onto the back of his brother’s neck, pinning him in place.

It honestly looked painful, but Klaus was moaning at each inward thrust, and he looked completely fucked out. He looked fucking doped up, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes pretty much crossed like that. Ben decided this was worse than the oversharing.

“Could you really not have kept it in your room?” he finally spoke up, stepping out in full view of them both, schooling his features into unimpressed. Which he was – it was just pretty hard to hide how grossed out he was as well.

Diego's eyes fixed on him but he didn’t stop. Klaus jumped and struggled weakly to sit up under the werewolf for a few seconds before a particularly hard thrust sent him boneless again, though his face turned bright red.

“Couldn’t wait,” his brother managed to squeeze out, his hands stretching out in front of him and clawing desperately at the smooth wood of the table as Diego drove impossibly deeper.

Klaus was a terrible liar. He was an even worse actor. When Luther bustled in, bags of Allison’s laundry in his arms (and then immediately on the floor at the sight before him), Klaus pretended he didn’t care. He even let out a strangled mixture between a laugh and a moan when Five appeared on the chandelier, face set in a disdainful frown.

Then Allison came in looking for Luther, and Vanya sensed everyone’s energy and gravitated to the room as well.

Within barely thirty seconds Klaus had gone from having the best sex of his life to Everyone's Worst Nightmare.

“Might as well invite the Count while we’re fucking at it,” he snapped, or tried to, and Allison scoffed.

No one moved, but Luther was the most flustered.

“Tell him to stop for God's sake Klaus!” the human almost whined, his face bright red, unable to look at the two of them for more than a second.

“Thanks I hadn’t thought of that,” came the very strained reply, as Diego was starting to grow sloppy.

Five rolled his eyes, “Werewolves are like animals, he’s not gonna stop until he’s.. finished.”  
Everyone grimaced.

“A werewolf? Really Klaus?” Allison raised an eyebrow, smirking at her brother's flushed face as he tried to flip her off convincingly.

“I'll be burning that table when you’re done,” Ben added, finding it kinda funny now the rest of his siblings were here. If Klaus wanted to fuck in a public place, he was gonna be watched.

Klaus pulled a face at him, but then Diego groaned and pushed in a final time, and Klaus' eyes rolled back and he arched his back with a full body shudder.

Ben had to admit, if Klaus wasn't his brother he could see him being a pretty successful pornstar.

There was a family meeting immediately following this.. incident, with everyone crowded in Five's study. Klaus was still pretending he didn’t care, but that was quite hard to do when he was sat on Diego's lap, his leaking cock still buried inside of him. Werewolves knotted apparently, in or out of their beast form. For a long fucking time.

“Flea collar is a must,” Five demanded as he hovered crosslegged over Luther's shoulder, sipping a huge coffee mug full of his favorite vintage blood.

“Recycle all the dog food cans please,” Ben supplied, and he saw Klaus raise an exasperated eyebrow.

Luther hastily scribbled each commandment down on a piece of paper he had balanced on his knee titled; Rules For Klaus If He's Going To Keep Fucking His Smelly Hairy Wolf Boyfriend Without The Count Knowing.

“Sex must be kept to the crypt,” Allison ordered, and when she saw Klaus' mouth open to protest she added “no exceptions.”

“And please get a dust buster. He leaves hair everywhere,” Vanya added, and everyone solemnly agreed.

Ben had a brief moment where he realised just what the hell they were doing.

Yeah, he'd been dead way too fucking long.

**Author's Note:**

> I call this one ‘can you tell I didn’t know how to end this fic and also got bored’ oops


End file.
